In California
My heart became a drunken runt
On the day I sunk in this shunt,
To tap me clean
Of all the wonder
And the sorrow I have seen,
Since I left my home:
My home, on the old Milk Lake,
Where the darkness does fall so fast,
It feels like some kind of mistake
(just like they told you it would;
Just like the Tulgeywood).
When I came into my land,
I did not understand:
Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile,
Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well,
Nor the black bear.
But there is another,
Who is a little older.
When I broke my bone,
He carried me up from the riverside.
To spend my life
In spitting-distance
Of the love that I have known,
I must stay here, in an endless eventide.
And if you come and see me,
You will upset the order.
You cannot come and see me,
For I set myself apart.
But when you come and see me,
In California,
You cross the border of my heart.
Well, I have sown untidy furrows
Across my soul,
But I am still a coward,
Content to see my garden grow
So sweet
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